


Properly

by insominia



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Boone gets into a fist fight, with altogether unexpected results.Originally on FKM





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on FKM at http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6099.html?thread=14511315#t14511315

Boone had wanted to go in guns blazing. He'd already pointed out the ideal sniping positions, wanted to set up around the town, take advantage of the high ground, but the courier, with her usual detachment, had shook her head. "We do this, we do this properly," she'd muttered and left him so she could scout out the town. He would have been content to wait for her, had he not noticed a group of legionaries, a little way from Nelson, keeping a poor lookout.

_'I see any crimson, I'm taking the shot,'_ he'd told her when they met. This counted.

If he'd taken the time to think about it, Boone would have remembered that his ammo was with the courier, and he was running on what he'd already loaded into his rifle. They hadn't intended to go into combat, despite their proximity to the Legion. But he had enough to take out the first two men before they realized what was happening. When he lined up the third shot, the guy had already spun around, locating the sniper with ease. Not that it mattered, Boone thought as he released his finger on the trigger.

Click.

_Goddammit._

The legionary was running at him so fast, Boone didn't have the time to draw the machete the courier insisted he carry as a close range weapon. One thing for it, he dropped the rifle and braced himself for the incoming blows. Before the first punch was thrown Boone regretted his impulsiveness, as the legionary's fist connected with his jaw and white pain exploded inside his head, Boone mused that this was probably one of his more disastrous ideas. The man couldn't hold his own in a fist fight with a drunk, let alone a trained Legion assassin. What clumsy attempts at reprisals he threw at him, the legionary ducked with ease. Veronica had tried to teach him some basic hand to hand moves, but given up shortly afterwards, declaring that the decorated sniper had no unarmed ability, whatsoever. He'd retorted by insulting the size of her fist. What he wouldn't give to see that fist now.

This was going to be a very short fight and the legionary knew it. His blows were becoming more measured, more precise; he was almost taking his time. The strikes Boone actually managed to land barely fazed the man. After another graceless attempt to block an incoming fist, Boone found the legionary ducking close to him and was over his shoulder, on the ground before he realized why he had done so. He was on his back, winded, barely reclaiming his breath before he felt firm hands close around his neck. He gasped reflexively but found nothing, the man's tight grip not giving him any chance to breathe. The suddenness of the situation, the lack of oxygen and the harshness of the man's fingers, biting into his neck. were having altogether unexpected effects. Fear of dying was paling beside the fear the legionary might shift his position and discover Boone's sudden, and surprising, erection. His vision blurred, stars painfully burning behind his eyes, yet he was almost relishing the sensations. He might have laughed that his death had come, at last, at the hands of the Legion, literally, and he was harder than hell.

The oxygen, when it came, almost made him pass out in itself, as it rushed unhindered into his lungs. The courier barreled into the legionary, freeing Boone's throat, bringing him back from delirium. He could hear her and the legionary wrestling just yards away, yet he found himself far more preoccupied competing the adolescent urge to simply jerk off.

From somewhere beside him he heard a dull thud and knew the legionary had fallen. The courier was beside him in a second, "you ok?" she asked, the note of concern evident in her voice.

Boone blinked up at her, his breath slowly returning to normal, "yeah. Just...just gonna lie here a minute," he muttered, embracing the ground.

She gave a rare smile, "sounds good," and she lay down next to him, oblivious that this was more to allow Boone's erection to subside rather than get his breath back.

That night saw Nelson back in NCR hands and the courier grinding down on her sniper, while Boone looked up at her, trying very hard not to think about how good it had felt to be choked. Of course that inevitably made him think on it more. He was only vaguely aware that he had moved her hands up to his neck, catching the lift of her eyebrow as he closed her fingers lightly around his throat. She was too close to respond, any questions were lost as she breathed his name and found release, taking him with her.

Afterwards she asked him, as casually as if they were deciding on what to eat, "so...you want me to choke you?" Caught up in the moment it had seemed erotic, even if he hadn't quite understood it, but now that the moment had passed, in the cold light of day, it seemed embarrassing. They'd never talked about sex, it just sort of happened and kept happening. Neither of them referred to it, even the morning after was always conducted in silence, much like the majority of their interactions.

Aware she was waiting for a response, he gave a non committed grunt and walked off, unable to quite meet her eye. It was his watch anyway. Her giggle followed him across their camp but she didn't mention it again on their way back to the strip. Neither did they sleep together, though Boone had no idea if that were down to his sudden predilections, or if they just _hadn't_.

Back in Vegas, the courier surprised him by heading for the Wrangler before all else. She surprised him again when she left him at the bar to share a drink with the cowboy ghoul. They seemed engrossed in their conversation, their drinks lay forgotten. After a beer or two, Boone realized that whatever Beatrix was saying had the courier rapt, and so he headed home without her.

He heard her follow a couple of hours later. Heard her in the kitchen, the sound of liquid sloshing against a shot glass and the quick gasp as she downed it. Whatever it was had brought a flush to her cheeks, Boone saw, as she stepped into the rec room. His eyes fell on the belt in her hands, already looped but not fastened.

"If we do this, we do it properly," she was saying, almost nervously, "I don't want to hurt you." Crossing the room, she lay the belt on the table beside him. "If it's too much, tap me twice, ok?" she said, her eyes burning into his. He reached up to kiss her, but she pushed him back down, though it seemed to take her some effort to do so, "I'm serious, Boone. Tap me twice, ok?" In response he gave her two firm taps on her hip. She smiled, visibly relaxing, and gave herself over to his lips.

He was surprised that the chair managed to actually support them both. Divested of clothes, the courier straddled him, sitting across his lap, leaning back so he could tease her breasts with his tongue. Lowering herself slowly onto him, she moaned, softly, into his ear, relishing the sensation of being filled. She took a moment to savour the feeling, rocking slowly in his lap, breathing his name. Although he was expecting it, it was still a shock when the belt was slipped over his head. The courier gave it a few gentle tugs, making sure she wouldn't do any damage and then, with a kiss so reverent it might have been a blessing, she pulled it tight and he was struggling to breathe.

His eyes fluttered closed behind his shades and he tipped his head back, as much as the belt would allow, and would have groaned had he been able to make a sound. She alternated the pressure, giving him moments where he couldn't breathe at all, the sense of automatic panic pushed away by the knowledge, somewhere within him, that he trusted her implicitly. He'd always been the strong one, always the protector but now he had no control. The rush was incredible. And all the while the courier was riding him, bringing ever closer.

Feeling herself build around him, she gave the belt a sharp tug. Boone saw stars explode behind his eyes, delirium taking over as he bucked up against her, as though that might bring him the air he needed, almost as much as he needed release. Then the belt was loose and he was gasping for breath, crying out as the assault on his lungs took him over the edge. He came hard, burying his face in the courier's shoulder. She was still riding out the edge of their orgasm, her head against his own shoulder, words rendered incomprehensible by an earth shattering climax.

When she stilled, they were both too stunned to speak.

"That..that was..." he started, after a while.

"Ssh," she whispered, gently. She slipped the belt off, letting it fall to the ground and slid off him, cringing a little as evidence of their exertions ran down her thigh. Holding out a bottle of water to him, which he sipped gratefully, she knelt down beside him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "That was amazing," she murmured, " _you_ were amazing."

Boone looked down at her, unexpectedly buoyed by her words. It left him warm inside, though not as warm as the aftermath of possibly the most mind blowing experience of his comparatively simple sexual escapades. "See," she smiled, nuzzling his chest with her forehead, "we do things, we do them properly."


End file.
